


The three times Levi came to life

by GalexisSpringbreeze



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Gen, Levi is a Little Shit, Levi is alive, Modern world, Original Character Death(s), beware of mia, big ass teabags, clean freak, figures come to live
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8020906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalexisSpringbreeze/pseuds/GalexisSpringbreeze
Summary: The three times Levi happened to find himself in a complete different world. And the three ways, the story could've happened.Totally unexpected, and definetly not the common way.





	The three times Levi came to life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yuzus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuzus/gifts).



> For Mia  
> Because she truly loves Levi and isn't afraid to tell the whole world. Every day. Again and again.

It was dark when she got home, the day barely an hour shy of turning into the next. The sky was filled with clouds and a low grumble foretold the upcoming thunderstorm.

Dead tired she opened the door to the three story high apartment block. The entry hall was dark and empty; she didn’t bother to switch on the light. A flood of advertisements, two letters and a small note from the delivery service in her arms after emptying the mailbox, she went to the elevator. But of course, an “out of order” sign greeted her tired eyes, as soon as she was in reach. With a deep sigh, she turned around and started to climb the stairs.

When she finally turned the key and stumbled into her two-room apartment, she was ready to kill for some peace and quiet. Well, if she could muster up the needed strength. The woman let her stuff fell, where she stood, kicked her shoes off and went to her room. Her eyes fell on the little figure on her nightstand. A small figurine of a black haired man, who was wearing some kind of battle gear and had two sword-thingies drawn, as if he was ready to slit your throat. The scowl on his face hinted obviously to some pent up frustration. Or an aggression problem. Well, whatever. Not that she would care; she didn’t even bought that guy for herself. It was for the upcoming college graduation of a friend of hers.

Mia, that’s the friend, was kinda batshit crazy about this guy. Always rambling about how precious he was, and how he deserved to live in peace and happiness and love. Her phone and laptop exploded on the amount of pictures and videos, her bedroom walls were plastered with endless posters, pictures and drawings. She wasn’t sure if Mia not already owned this one figure, she had so many of them. But on the other side, she did choose some unknown and small trader, so maybe she didn’t own this one. It was a limited edition, with special features, but she couldn’t quite make those “special features” out. It looked like a normal figure to her. Well, this gear looked pretty detailed, but what did she know about that kinda stuff... She would see.

Undoing the buttons of her blouse she sauntered off, leaving a trail of clothes on her way to the bathroom. While humming a soft tune, she went to fetch the softest towel she could find, and a cold bottle of raspberry yoghurt drink. On her way back she turned on her record player, and smooth piano sounds and a caressing violin united to a caring and tender voice of love and affection filled her small apartment. Basking in the feeling she closed her eyes for a moment, but a sting in her left shoulder blade let her hurry back in the bathroom.

As soon as the hot water splashed on her shoulders and cascaded down her body, she felt an immense relief. Letting the hot water massage all the pain away, she allowed herself a moment of relaxing. Slowly the tension in her shoulders eased, the stress faded and her frown vanished – she felt better.

*****

_Outside a storm raged. Thunder growled and lightning flashed through the dark sky._

_A day ended and a new one was born._

_The clock stroke 12._

_Midnight._

*****

A mix of blurred colours rotated before his eyes, everything seemed hazy. He closed his eyes in an attempt to regain his eyesight, and concentrated on his breathing. In, out. In out. Slowly he opened his eyes again. Now, at least he could see things more clearly, even if that didn’t help him at all with the problem of where he was, or why.

It didn’t made sense. Not at all. There was music somewhere around here, and he was inside, that much was clear. It seemed to be some kind of a very large hall. It wasn’t really bright in here, but he could make up his immediate surroundings. He stood on some kind of small pedestal, and the floor seemed to be made of glass. He turned around, and flinched.

Behind him stood a very large Painting of two women in a curved glass frame. How strange. It seemed very realistic, almost as if they stood behind the glass and watched him, but not artistic at all. The women laughed, and seemed genuinely happy, but why would someone paint them? They also wore very strange clothing. No blouses, more kind of shirts, with colours and patterns brighter than he ever saw.

‘Who would make such clothing? Or, who would wear something like this?’ he scoffed, but he couldn’t quite turn away from the painting. And then, he noticed it. Around the neck of the blonde and shorthaired woman, was a necklace. A simple black string, but the pendant… two crossed wings, one dark blue, and one white.

_The wings of freedom…_

His mind raced and he reached out to touch them, but a sudden noise let him turn around…

*****

Securely wrapped in a large fluffy towel, she walked inside her bedroom, while wrapping her hair into another towel. Humming softly, she tucked the towel in, and let the other one fall to a heap at her feet. She proceeded to step out of it, when out of the blue something tiny and very sharp pierced into her right arm. Her hand shot to the place to stop the sting, but a tiny something flashed through her sight and then there was _pain._ Pain, so much pain.

She watched in horror, as her arm got cut several times by something too small and too fast to catch on, and she was afraid, she was terrified, and it _hurt!_

It all happened so fast and she couldn’t move, just watch and feel the pain creep higher and higher and the blood. So much blood. It felt like hours, but was probably only a few seconds, until she snapped out of her shock rigid, and screamed. She screamed for it to stop, over and over. And when the pain reached close to her neck, she started crying. Hot tears trailed down her face and dripped onto her bloody shoulder, and it stung because of the salt…

…but her neck remained untouched. It had stopped.

She crumbled to the floor and whimpered. She didn’t dare to look at her arm, and everything hurt, all she felt was pain. But when she finally lifted her head a bit, eyes unfocused and full of tears, she saw a tiny man standing on the floor in front of her. First she was confused, couldn’t think because of all the pain, but then she noticed all the blood. On the floor, on his clothes, on his _blades…_

With a start she bolted back, bumping into the wall behind her. Frantically she scrambled back to the door, eyes never leaving the tiny man. As soon as she was out of the room, she slammed the door shut, and pressed her back against it. Shuddering, she closed her eyes, hoping that it was only a dream. But when she opened her eyes, the pain was still there, and she still sat there, naked, bloodied, tearstained face.

She sat on the floor, and next to her… was her bag. She had left it there, when she got home. A relieved sob escaped her lips, when she shakily reached out with her left and took it. A moment later she had her smartphone, some tissues and pain killers, even a rest of water in a small bottle.

She had already dialled 911 when her finger hovered over the call button. They would never believe her what happened. They’d probably think she did that to herself and call her paranoid or mental ill… she laid the phone aside and took some painkillers with a gulp of water.

Cautiously she eyed her arm, tissues at hand. There was almost no skin left, that wasn’t dripping of blood. She tried to clean her arm up a bit, but soon her tissues were all bloody, the water gone, and her arm didn’t look better at all. She felt sick. The sight was nauseous. And come to think of it… she couldn’t see blood and lacerations even less. Her sight got bleary, and she started feeling dizzy. Soon everything went black.

*****

The little man stood silently in front of the unmoving body of the strange titan. It shouldn’t have died because of the wounds he’d inflicted. He hadn’t delivered the final blow, because of it strange behaviour. It had screamed, some kind of words even, but he didn’t knew the language.

But... he didn't _need_ to know the language to understand panic and pain and _fear_.

Obviously it felt pain when he had slaughtered its arm. But what had let him stop his final attack were the tears. A titan didn’t cry. It shouldn’t cry. But this one did. And it had been afraid of him, terrified even.

He poked at the bloodstained arm with his blade, assessing a rather long and nasty looking cut through her forearm. It possibly died of blood loss… Judging by the amount of blood at the floor, and since it didn’t heal any of the cuts. He didn’t understand it. It wasn’t even steaming or evaporating at all, so he touched it carefully. It wasn’t hot. It grew rather cold.

_Almost like a human…_

He turned away, shaking off the slight uneasiness that had crept up his back. He needed to find out, where he was. He needed to find that woman with the necklace. Maybe she could help him to get back to the Survey Corps. They needed him there.

*****

The sun just began to rise, when the tiny figure of a man jumped of the balcony and vanished in the trees. On the floor of a small flat laid a woman, cold and stiff in a pool of her own blood.

They would never knew, how she died.

The record player kept playing. The gentle voice of a woman wafted through the air, accompanied with soft piano tunes. 

 

_“Killing me softly, with this song…”_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is unbeta'd, because reasons. yeah.  
> I don't have a beta for my english works, only for my german ones.
> 
> So, please excuse if this hurts your eyes.  
> English timeforms are slaughtering my brain and roasting it over a huge bonfire made of dictionaries.
> 
> long story short: if you find mistakes, please tell me.  
> And if you want to be me my english beta, please tell me too. It's not a huge job, since I mostly write in german.  
> However, I would be forever grateful. *bows*


End file.
